


Keep it Moving

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only have one mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep it Moving

Talon Company came out of nowhere. A mutant’s a mutant to them, doesn’t matter that Murphy was sentient enough to say “I’m just a scavenger!” He was in a firefight he couldn’t win, not against three of them, ducked behind a postbox and laid down some cover fire, wondering if he could make it around that building without getting shot. Well, the Talon Company was shooting, but not at him. There were- visceral sounds, screams, more shooting. And then it got quiet, and Murphy decided to stay behind that postbox until he was sure whatever done it- Brotherhood, supermutant, they’d shoot him all the same- was gone. Then Barrett spoke.

“Keep it moving, meat.”

Murphy had always been a slimy one, and he managed to convince Barrett to stick with him on his way to the ruins of the lab he set up in the suburbs where he used to live. It’s not like the guy was doing much of anything in D.C. but shooting mercs for repair parts.

Murphy’s house was leveled, of course, but there were bits and pieces of equipment left they dragged down into the old Seneca Metro. Barrett stuck around, even when it got pretty obvious the most he was going to be fighting was mole rats. Mostly, he kept his hands on his gun, sometimes he’d hold things or grab something from the grocery if Murphy asked him to. Barrett didn’t talk much, especially not about himself, but that didn’t bother Murphy. Let him focus on the work.

There were logos on his combat armor, half worn-off, and Murphy was pretty sure they were U.S. military. Barrett had the look. Hey, Murphy had U.S. infantry watching his lab; he didn’t mind.

They only found the one mattress. “...We’ll take turns?”

Barrett just uncrossed his arms, and lugged it down to the lab. They take turns, oh sure, they both sleep at the same damn time, so sometimes Murphy ends up hunched over at his desk with aches in his ruined joints, and sometimes he catches Barrett napping in the desk chair when Murphy’s fortunate enough to get the old mattress, arms crossed and head down, facing the door. Protecting the lab. Or- he realizes later since Barrett only sleeps in the back room when Murphy’s there- protecting him. No one comes to Seneca for fear of the Family, but there’s a dozen mirelurks between the Family and them, so there’s really nothing to worry about, he supposes. Plus, he’s got Barrett.

They’re out of Sugar Bombs, and Barrett’s picked the grocer’s clean, but won’t go any further. Says he’s no scavenger. Murphy tries to explain that this falls under the duties of assistant, but Barrett gives him that look with the one eyebrow up, like if the next thing he says isn’t amusing his neck’s going to snap by osmosis, and the subject drops.

Barrett doesn’t sleep on the mattress anymore; even when Murphy works late he leaves the mattress for him and sleeps in the chair, just like always. It’s gotta be hell on his back, but it means Murphy doesn’t sleep at his desk, so he doesn’t ask.

Barrett’s not “warmed up” per say, because the words “warm” and “Barrett” should never cohabit a sentence, but he doesn’t call Murphy a son-of-a-bitch anymore, and only “meat” when he asks him to do something he doesn’t like (like scrubbing the pots). He still scrubs them, though. Sometimes he even asks if he needs help with anything.

Then that kid shows up, and pretty soon they’re up to their noses in Sugar Bombs, and up to their ears in Ultrajet. Barrett kills and cleans a mirelurk, and they eat something fresh for once.

“You’ve been a great help,” Murphy says with a toast, “thanks for everything.”

Barrett shrugs. “Thanks for having me.”

That night, Barrett jokingly calls him “meat” as he cleans the pots, and watches with that raised brow as Murphy takes the desk chair out of the back room and dumps it down the manhole to the mirelurk caves.

“We’ll take turns.” he says as he presses Barrett down against that mattress, and of course, they never do.


End file.
